


Souls Day

by Animenite97



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9195335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animenite97/pseuds/Animenite97
Summary: A few vignettes between the 6ix and the Seasons of Hieron crew. (Minus Fantasmo, sorry.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to been done by Halloween. Oops, it's a new year. Writing is hard and I am lazy. I'm sorry that Fantasmo isn't here, but I just couldn't think of anything to write for him. Also there are parties going on and Fantasmo wouldn't be into that anyway.

Today is Souls Day, the day when the walls between life and death fall apart and the realm of the living and dead merge. The reason for this is that Saveria, or Samanta as she is now known as, gets bored and like to rile up her creations. So, once in awhile, she ask the god of death (who, unfortunately for her, is Samot now) to allow life and death to mingle, to see what happens. This is similar to Nacre, the difference being that on this day no one can die, not even if they wanted to. The why that the people of Hieron know this day is coming is that, no matter what it was the night prior, it is a perfect Autumn day at sunrise. All the leaves are beautiful shades of reds, yellows, and oranges. It’s neither too hot nor too cold. And, the leaves are falling from the trees and make the most perfect crunch sound when you step on them. After a fortnight of spontaneous Autumn, it is Souls Day. After Souls Day, the weather goes back to how it is meant to be. This spiritual day is celebrated in Velas similarly to High Sun Day: parades, activities and prays; this is just how Velas does celebrations. 

After an hour at the Souls Day parade Hella couldn’t take being around that many obnoxious people anymore - her tolerance is Fero and that’s it - so she went to the Bottom o’ the Flounder. She ordered some goose nog (It’s disgusting and Hella said as much, but the lady wouldn’t stop offering so she ordered some to shut her up.) and some potato soup and took a seat near the corner. While Hella was eating (And not touching the nog) her sword began chanting softly. It chanted “Charter” in half of the voices and “Castille” in the other half. She looks up and sees a pale elf girl with long pointy ears. She gestures to the seat across from Hella. “May I?” Hella gestures confirmation.  
“Are you Charter?” Hella ask.  
“Yes, I am Charter Castille. Hey, hi.” Charter responds. “And you are Hella Varal.”  
“How do you know who I am?”  
“You first. How do you know me?”  
“Oh, it’s… it’s weird and complicated.”  
Charter raises an eyebrow and rests her chin on her hand.  
If the sword told Hella about Charter than she probably won't think she’s crazy if she tells her.  
“Um… my sword… told me?” Hella says.  
“May I see it?” Charter asks.  
“Tell me how you know me, first.”  
“Samot told me.” Charter says plainly.  
“Isn’t he one of the gods in Samothes’s patheon; I’m not big on religion. You… met him?” Hella questions.  
“Yeah. I’m friends with him.”  
“Oh my god-” Charter chuckles. “you need to talk to Hadrian. And Fantasmo, it’ll be great.” Hella laughs fully.  
“A friend of mine will be talking to Hadrian today. And ever since Fantasmo returned to Velas Samot has been talking about him non stop. It’s super annoying and if I see him I might slap him on the spot.”  
“I’d be okay with that.”  
“I figured you might.”  
“So, the sword?” Charter asks.   
“Oh, right.” Hella hands Charter her sword still in the sheath. Charter examines the sword closely, turning it over in her hand and unsheathing it slightly to inspect the blade. Her eyes close and her grip tightens on the sword. She breathes deeply then opens her eyes.  
“So the sword talked about me? What did it say?” Charter asks as she hands the sword back to Hella.  
“Nothing much. It chanted your name before and again when you walked up.” With some more thought Hella remembered. “Oh! It chanted “Charter” and “Friend” at the sametime once.   
Charter cocks her head in confusion. “In any case, Samot asked me to tell you something: He is watching you. You, and Hadrian, have peeked His interest.”  
“What, hold on, why would Samot care about me?”  
“Nacre, for one. Most of what happened there was your fault.”  
Charter stands up. “Now, I’m going to go enjoy being alive again. If you wish to join me, feel free” She walks away. Hella follows.

Hadrian is at the Church of Samothes. He isn’t working, this day is for Samanta so sermons are being held at Severea Hall. Even still, Hadrian sits, taking the time to think about everything that happened in the preceding months, especially the dreams he has been having. These dreams are very vivid, if a little disorienting, and they occur almost daily.  
It is at this moment that Hadrian hears footsteps. “Um… hello? You’re Hadrian, correct?” Hadrian turns and sees a little half-lizard, half-dog person. He recognizes her, from his dreams.  
“Yes, I am Hadrian. And you are Aubry?” Hadrian says.  
“Yeah yes, I am. But, how do you know me?” Aubrey asks  
“I’ve been having dreams; visions. You have appeared in them. May I ask: are you dead?”  
“Yes I am, I am long dead. Also, Samot told me who you were. If, you were wondering-I mean, it’s only polite.” Hadrian absentmindedly strokes his thumb over where his ring use to be.  
Aubrey looks at Hadrian’s finger. “You aren’t wearing your ring?”  
Hadrian folds his hands. “Yeah, I just… I just didn’t want to wear it today, is all. I’m not on duty or anything so…” Aubrey squints her eyes at him and nods.  
The two sit together in comfortable silence for a few minutes when Hadrian offers Aubrey a drink. She looks around for a little while as if she expects someone to show up before agreeing. Hadrian then leads her into the back of the church.  
Hadrian leads Aubrey further into the church, to his office. The office is small and simple. There is a desk with candle and a pen on it with a chair behind it. Hadrian gestures for Aubrey to go inside and leaves to get another chair. He comes back a moment later and offers Aubrey the sit.  
“Is whisky fine?” Hadrian asks.  
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Aubry replies.  
“You sure? I have other things: wine, bourbon.”  
“No-no, whisky is fine.”  
Hadrian goes to his desk and pulls glasses and a bottle of whisky out of a draw. As he is getting the drinks Aubrey speaks. “Why do you have alcohol in your desk?”  
“My life has been stressful as of late, as I am sure you are aware, I need something stronger than communal wine to get through the day.”  
“Is that okay? Can you do that?”  
“It’s not illegal.” Hadrian hands Aubry a glass. Hadrian takes a sip. Aubrey does the same.  
“Your ring fell off on High Sun Day. Is that why you’re not wearing it? Aubrey asks.  
Hadrian sighs “Yes it is. I don’t wear it anymore, but it is still with me. He reaches into his shirt and shows her his ring. It is attached to a chain around his neck.  
Aubrey nods. “Anyway, I came here for a reason. Samot wants you to know he is keeping an eye on you, but more importantly, he want to know how you are doing.”  
“He’s a god, shouldn’t he already know?”  
“He is more interested in how you, Hadrian, interpret your feelings.”  
Hadrian sips his drink. “I’m confused about Him, but ultimately, I am still His tool. Whatever he wants of me in the future is fine by me. I most overjoyed to serve Him. I am Hadrian: Sword of Samothes, Defender of the Undying Fire, Officer of the Order of Eternal Princes; a little self doubt and confusion will not change that.”  
“Are you sure about that?”  
“Yes.”Hadrian strokes his ring finger again, but this time Aubrey doesn’t notice.  
“I see why Samot taken a liking to you.” Aubry downs the rest of her drink before refilling it. “Alright then, I can drink to that. Cheers!” Hadrian smiles and taps his glass to her’s and takes a sip. Aubry takes a big swig of her’s.  
Hadrian chuckles, “Slow down there little one.”  
“What? I’m fine, I’m fine! Don’t worry about it.”  
Hadrian raises an eyebrow and takes another sip.

 

In the Bottom O’ The Flounder are Lem and Throndir sitting together at the bar. When Lem walking in the pub he saw Throndir sitting alone. They have not talken to each other much, just never gotten around to spending anytime together. Lem saw this as the perfect opportunity to correct that. He talk the seat next to Throndir and started chatting with him.  
The conversation flowed easily; Throndir is lively and finds seemingly everything Lem can think to say fascinating, even if he doesn’t always get it.  
“So what other ways can you perform Semiotics?” Throndir asks.  
“Well, theoretically, any method of arranging things can do it.” Lem says  
“Can you do it by dancing?”  
“Oh absolutely.”  
“Okay, do it. Dance for me, Tusk.”  
“What? Oh no, no. I can’t do it.Asking me to could very well bring the house down, literally.”  
Throndir rests his head on his hand.  
“I can tell you about an old acquaintance of mine though. I mean, if you’d like to hear about it?”  
“Your stories haven’t disappointed me yet; do tell.”  
“Alright.” Lem takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “I didn’t know her all that well - we were merely acquaintances; I believe her name was Quill Onry. One time she was show me her dancing. The steps were fluid and unpredictable. Arms flowing through the air, slowly and methodically. Like Samanta herself. However, in stark contrast to the rest of her form, her footwork was rigid and powerful; afterwards she tells me it is to accommodate the rocky walls of the Archives. Less than a minute after she starts dancing I feel the room grow colder. I look around and see frost gathering on the walls and on the ground. I looked at Quill’s feet and notice a little bit of snow gathering where she stands. She stops dancing and walks over to me. ‘Okay, now play some notes and get rid of this cold; I’m freezing.’ She says.”  
Lem finishes his story and noticed Throndir looking wide eyed at him. Lem is use to it at this point.  
“That was cool! No pun intended.” Throndir beams. “But um, did you, like, have a thing for Quill?”  
Lem blushes. “No no, Quill, um, sh-she uh… wasn’t my type.”  
“Really? You put a lot of flowery speech into that story. I just figured…”  
“I just admired her talents, there weren’t many dancing semioticians in the Archives.”  
“So, besides playing music and, like, stacking cups to make a fire, what can you do? Semiotics wise.” Throndir says gesturing sorta randomly as he speaks.  
Lem pulls out a journal and a pen. As he is doing this Throndir orders them another round of drinks. “I can write, kinda-”  
“Oh yeah, didn’t you say you wrote a poem on Nacre? You should write some about me, since I am The Ranger.” Throndir interrupts.  
“Yeah, maybe I will. So, by writing sentences and arranging them in certain ways…” Lem trails off. The page contains Orcish words arranged in short phrases, some layered on top of one another. “I can do…” he taps the pen once on the desk then draws a line on it “this.” The paper he was writing on folded itself into a tiny dog, to small and intricate to be hand made.  
Throndir’s eyes goes wide. “Yo! You made a dog!”  
“It’s Kodiak, if I remember what he looks like, that is.”  
Throndir picks up the paper dog and touches its nose to his. “This is really cool, Lem, thanks.”  
Lem smiles.  
When their drinks arrive, Throndir lifts Lem’s arm and puts it around his shoulder before putting his own arm around Lem’s side. “I like you, Lem, you’re pretty cool.” Throndir picks up his glass. “Cheers!”  
Lem’s picks up his glass and taps it to Throndir’s “Cheers, mate!”

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up accidentally shipping Lem and Throndir at the end there, so I just leaned into it. Not sorry.
> 
> There is one more scene I need to write, but I wanted to get this out there. That last scene will involve Hitchcock, Sige and Fero. I can't say I'll get the last chapter out soon, but I will make it. Eventually.
> 
> Well, thanks for reading! <3


End file.
